


Night Out

by bebtea



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Banter, Can you tell I spend too much time in Wetherspoons?, Gen, Like barely 5am but would it be an s1 fic without it?, Please drink responsibly, early season 1, happy New Year’s Eve all, just everyone having a nice fun time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-04-21 08:15:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bebtea/pseuds/bebtea
Summary: For young people in the UK, Friday nights are mostly about drinking, and the apocalypse isn’t about to change that.OR: how Jody, Jack, Eugene and Sam spend their off hours (and how Five got roped in)
Relationships: Jack Holden/Eugene Woods, Janine De Luca/Simon Lauchlan, Runner Five/Sam Yao
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Night Out

The old barn makes a fairly good pub, all things considered, and despite the fact they lack tables and chairs and a terribly gaudy carpet, it's as packed as any Wetherspoons would have been on a pre-apocalyptic Friday night. Jumping up as they see a young, dark haired woman come through the door, Five lifts four fingers and waves their friend over, patting the space next to them with a grin. They’ve been waiting a little awkwardly. Socialising’s not really their thing.

“It's Jody, Five. You know that. Being called Four when I'm not on a run honestly makes me feel like a prisoner or something.”

_ You call me by my number_, Five scribbles in a tattered notebook. Maxine gave it to them in their first days at Abel, and a few months later, it never leaves their side.

“You like your callsign! Unless you want me to start calling you-”

They immediately shake their head, raise five fingers and nod enthusiastically. Both runners laugh, Five taking a sip of the mystery liquid they were given “on the house for Runners” at the door and nearly snorting it back through their nose.

“Oh, is it your first sip of our moonshine? Simon and Rajit brewed it. Apparently it's only toxic in certain quantities... which nobody is certain of?”

Five recovers from choking, eyeing their chipped glass with a new suspicion. _ Does Doc Myers approve? _

“During her shift it doesn't exist as far as she's concerned, and when she's on rest break she needs it just as much as the rest of us. As long as you don't pickle your liver and aren't too hungover to run.” She raises her glass. “Cheers.”

Five clinks dutifully, shrugs, writes: _ What are we toasting? _

“I don't know.” She turns, looks for some of their friends in the crowd. “Hey! What should we be toasting, Gene?!”

“La vie boheme?” Eugene is carrying his own seat with him, a plastic school chair which, though small, is a step up from the hay bales Jody and Five managed to get. He dumps it down across from them, and collapses into it. “Cause, I mean. Who isn’t unconventional at this point? Next round’s on Jack.”

“Uh, you can speak for yourself, thank you,” Jack leans on the back of Eugene’s chair, clearly relishing the feeling of being taller than him. “I'm not trading rations or work hours for that stuff. It’s 80% rat poison.”

There’s laughter in Eugene’s tone when he replies: “that’s not the Jack Holden I know. Remember that time you got completely shit-faced on WKD when we were hiding in that student house in Warwick?”

Jack blushes, ruffling his boyfriend’s hair. “Knock it off. What happened in Warwick stays in Warwick.”

_ You’re off duty. Don't have to treat us to a Radio Abel segment. _

“But there's always a good time for a Radio Abel segment!”

Jody raises an eyebrow.“We were listening in when you talked about the guy getting sick on marshmallows this morning, and I nearly had to stop to puke whilst being chased three miles from the gates. Even Five here looked queasy, and they can stomach Sam's cooking.”

“There's usually a good time for a Radio Abel segment? Especially if that segment will embarrass a dear friend into buying alcohol?”

“Shut up, I'm going to get the round,” Jack concedes to cheers. “This is peer pressure. I'll have to trade my next two showers for it, so you'd better not care if I stink.”

“I have to share a shack with you for fourteen hours a day!” Eugene says plaintively, pulling Jack's arm.

“You brought this on yourself, mate. Back in a mo.”

The second he leaves, Jody leans across the upturned crate table. “So tell us. What happened when Jack drank all that WKD?”

“You think I'm telling you, Jody Marsh? The biggest blabbermouth in the township?”

“Hey! That's not fair! I'm a great secret keeper if I put my mind to it.”

“Name one secret you’ve ever kept.”

She opens her mouth to respond, before realising it’s a trick question and flipping him off instead.

“You’re nothing compared to Five.”

Five draws a finger across their own lips, and nods in agreement with Eugene.

“Of course Five can keep a secret! They literally can’t speak.”

“All the better. I bet you, Five knows everything that's going on around here.”

_ is because im trustworthy!! _ Five looks a little indignant, and their friends chuckle. They've almost finished their first cup, and their handwriting is already shaky.

“Hey, go easy there, buddy. Aren't you on call from 5AM tomorrow?”

Runner Five groans and buries their head in Jody’s shoulder.

“So am I! Don’t worry, runners can hold their booze.”

“Here we are, four more of the finest. No, no, don't thank me - I am your humble servant.” As he places the drinks on the table, Jack gives a sweeping bow. “Voila!”

“Very dramatic.”

“I try, I try.”

“So Five,” says Jody, “What's going on with you and Sam, anyway? You've been accepting way too many of his marmite sandwiches. We all know they taste like arse.”

Five flinches away from Jody’s shoulder with a noise of protest, and shakes their head.

“I agree with Five there. Marmite’s fantastic.”

“Marmite is disgusting,” Eugene interjects.

“Americans have no tastebuds, and apparently neither do Northerners, so neither of your opinions count.”

“I’m _ Canadian_, as you well know.”

“Eh, same difference.” Jack smirks deliberately. Eugene puts his head on the sticky table in despair, and immediately regrets it.

“Does anyone actually wipe these tables?”

“Oh first you don’t like marmite, and now you don’t like fake Wetherspoons. This is an authentic UK pub experience!”

“I’ll keep that in mind for my TripAdvisor review.”

“Jack, you’re only rude about my tastebuds because you’ve never been north of London. There’s a whole cultural experience you’re missing out on past the Watford Gap.”

“Like _ what_?”

“Like battered Mars bars!” Jody says triumphantly.

“You do _ what _to Mars bars?!”

“You guys have got Mars bars?!” Sam appears behind them at the mention of chocolate, eyes tired, clearly just finished his shift. Five nearly jumps out of their skin to the amusement of the table.

“Alright, Sam is in the building!”

“Get us some shots, would you, Sammy?”

“As long as you never call me Sammy again, Eugene, I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“I’m sorry, no can do.”

“You never know when he might need to,” Jack shrugs.

“You’re both completely unreasonable. Hi Jodes, hi Five. I’m glad you made it.”

“Hiya Sam.”

Five waves a little too energetically, nearly knocking their mug over.

“So seriously, you guys were talking chocolate?”

“There is no chocolate, Sam, calm down.”

Jack begins to mutter something under his breath, drumming his fingers on the table, getting louder and louder until the others join in. “Shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots!”

“Fine! Christ, no peace for the wicked, is there.” He rolls his eyes, and wanders over to the makeshift counter.

All eyes are instantly on Five.

“Now come on, we've seen the way you look at him.”

“_More _the way he looks at you.”

“There's something there for certain...”

Five blushes furiously and puts their hands over their ears.

“Ohhh, Five has it bad!”

“Come on, you can tell your Uncle Jack all about it.”

Jody reads Five’s lips: “_He's nice. Nothing more _\- liar!”

“Five and Sam, sitting in a tree-”

“How old are you?” Jack steals Eugene’s crutch and pokes him with it. “This is a serious conversation about Five-Alive’s love life?”

“Five-Al… wasn’t that a juice drink?”

“It’s an official nickname.”

Again, Five shakes their head. They begin to chew their thumbnail, obviously uncomfortable.

“Hey, we’re only teasing!”

“So, if it's not Sam… who do you like?”

The runner taps their nose with one finger, and gulps down the rest of their alcohol as if it were water. Jody takes pity. “Let’s leave the poor person alone, boys.”

“Can we tease you about your love life instead?”

“Not if you don’t want to end the night in the hospital,” Jody says firmly.

“Oooohh!” Eugene punches Jack in the shoulder, the two far more comfortable showing affection after a few drinks. “That’s you told.”

_ why is it never our turn to wind up you 2??? _

_ “ _A point well made, Five!”

“Because we’re so loving and adorable and we make your lives sweeter?” Jack laughs. “Or just because I’m so gorgeous that there’s nothing to make fun of?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, you’re _ something _ at any rate.”

“Hey! Gene, I demand you stand up and defend my honour!”

“In case you forgot, dear, I’m lacking a functioning leg.” Eugene drawls. “Otherwise you know I’d be the first to fight for you.”

“Hah, as if you could take on two runners, radio boy.”

“Don’t try me, I’ve got a mean left hook!”

Jack nods. “He’s not kidding. Slapped the hell out of me the other night to check I was still alive.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“My cheek is badly bruised!”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“I wouldn’t complain.”

Five mimes gagging as the two men make out. Sliding a tray of shots in a variety of appropriate and inappropriately sized glasses onto the table, Sam covers their eyes as well as Jody’s. “Oh, that is not his cheek! Not in front of the aces!”

“Oops, sorry. My mouth must have slipped. Oh! Here it goes again-”

Five signs insistently in Eugene’s face as soon as they break apart: _ your lovey-dovey-ness is going to kill me. _Sam translates, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah boys, get a room,” Sara heckles as she brushes past. 

“Well, now we’re being attacked from all sides. I’m going to put in a formal complaint to Janine about it.”

Jody snorts. “Because Janine is in the pro-PDA camp, you think?”

Tugging on her sleeve, Five points to the back of the barn, where Simon’s arm is draped around Janine’s shoulders as he plants a kiss on the top of her head.

She reels. “Well… she, she must have fallen asleep there, because there is no way in Hell she would normally let that slide.”

Janine opens her eyes, and tilts her head back to kiss him on the lips.

“Um, Jody,” Jack murmurs, “I think Hell just froze over.”

_My eyes! My eyeees!_ Five mimes gouging theirs out.

“Am I seeing this or is this a morphine hallucination because I don’t know anymore.”

Jack winces there. “Hey. A little bit soon?”

“Sorry, it’s the shock.” Gene squeezes his hand apologetically, but his boyfriend doesn’t look up for a moment, reliving the three days and nights he camped out waiting on the infirmary floor. “I mean it. I’m sorry. But I’m okay, yeah? I’m here. I’m alive. We’re _ safe _.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, I just killed the mood.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Jody says. Five sidles over to pat him on the shoulder.

It’s Sam who breaks the silence. “...anyway, about these shots you forced me to get before I even got a chance to sit down?”

“Will they make me forget what I just saw?”

“Jodes, that’s burnt on your retinas for life.”

“Cheers to you all!” Jack declares, the smile almost back on his face, and the five of them down their cups. “We’re going to live forever.”

* * *

“I LOVE. YOU GUYS! SO MUSSCH!”

It’s a giggly bunch that wander back to the sleeping quarters some time in the early hours, Jack trying to remember all the lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody but getting lost somewhere around “Galileo!”; Gene trying to keep himself steady without collapsing every three steps into hiccuping laughter; Jody mumbling incoherent and loud instructions for knitting the perfect socks, stopping on occasion to throw her arms around one of her friends.

Sam and Five walk hand in hand, weaving through the buildings and their friends trying to out-gymnast each other. Five’s head feels heavy, their chest burning with warmth and it’s a little bit of drunkenness, a little bit of joy.

Or maybe a lot.

“Glad I’m here,” they say, and it’s the first words Sam has ever heard them utter. It takes a moment for them to register, but his face shines when they finally do.

“We’re glad you’re here too. I mean, me especially. I’m, I’m especially glad you’re here. I’m-“

And then they’re both just grinning stupidly at each other as if the world hasn’t ended. As if maybe they will live forever, after all.

”So, I take it you’re coming drinking next week?”

Five nods enough for every week after.


End file.
